


Bird Set Free

by masterpiece



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Family Issues, Light Angst, M/M, Muslim Character, Star-crossed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-03 07:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16322228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterpiece/pseuds/masterpiece
Summary: The most valuable lesson Ander Muñoz learned from the tragedy that shook their town was that life could end in the blink of an eye – so every minute should be spent living.He wants to spend his time with Omar. To kiss him and hold him and love him without the threat of exposure looming over them. But how can he, when Omar is barely allowed to leave his parents' shop?Ander gets an idea.





	1. Chapter 1

Few things can put life into perspective as effectively as death. Like a fire in a gloomy cave slowly burning to the last ember, it leaves no soul untouched by its finality. For those closely related to the deceased, death turns life upside-down, painting it in the colors of grief, anger and denial. Not even those standing quietly on the sidelines are spared, the tragedy shaking the ground beneath their feet, shattering any illusion of safety. 

Things changed after Marina's death, and Ander sees the change in everyone. In his friends, most of all; in Guzmán, who now consumes alcohol like it is water, his spirit faded; in Rolo, who no longer smiles; in Christian who has become quiet and withdrawn. 

Marina's death also changed something in Omar, though they were no more than dealer and buyer to each other, as far as Ander knew. Her passing seems to have reminded him of what is truly important in life, and taught him that time should not be wasted. 

It wouldn't have mattered, before Marina. Omar would have given the same excuses as he always did: his father, his mother, the threat of an arranged marriage – but when things finally start to calm down and Marina and Nano's names are no longer the only thing on everybody's lips, ten minutes of freedom no longer seem to be enough for Omar either.

These ten minutes that Omar can offer him are the best minutes of Ander's day. But stolen kisses in Omar's room while Nadia watches the store don't quench Ander's thirst for him; they leave him wanting more. Ander wants so much he _aches_. 

He can feel how much Omar also wants, their kisses deepening despite the clock on the wall telling them that they are out of time. Ander thinks of last week, when he had to sneak out the window because he and Omar had been too wrapped up in the smell and taste and feel of each other to register Nadia's warning cough from the front of the store. 

Ander is having just as much difficulty pulling away today, holding Omar tightly in his arms, kissing and biting his lips like a starving man. He feels Omar's hands slide under his shirt, palms hot and a little calloused. The caresses are slow and calculated despite the urgency of their kiss – almost like Omar is trying to commit the feel of his skin to memory. Ander's eyes are closed, but he can feel Omar's eyes flicking to the clock and hear the thoughts buzzing in his head. He wants to help him so badly it hurts. 

They break for air. Ander stares into Omar's expressive eyes, filled with so much pain and longing, and wonders how different Omar would look if he were happy. He reminds Ander of an animal trapped in a cage, shoulders drooping with the burden he carries. 

"Let's go away together," Ander says on a breath, taking Omar's face between his hands and staring into his eyes. "My uncle has a summer house by the sea. I stayed there with the guys last summer. He's in Berlin so we would have the house to ourselves. You and I could go away for the weekend, just the two of us." He sounds hopeful even to his own ears. 

Unsurprisingly, Omar protests.

"You know I can't," he says and pulls away, shoulders slumping. "Damn it Ander, you know damn well that my father is watching me like a hawk. I'm stuck here all summer!" His gaze flicks to the clock, and he bites his lip in worry. "He'll be back any minute so you need to leave." 

Ander takes Omar's hands in his, stroking gently with his thumb. "But if I could figure something out, would you? Go away with me?" 

Omar sighs. "You know I would, Ander. But my father would never let me. He won't even let me see Samu, do you really think he'd let me go to a fucking beach house?" He sounds tired. Looks it too. Ander squeezes his hands and pulls him flush against his body, peppers his cheeks and nose and forehead with kisses until the hopeless look disappears from Omar's face. 

They don't get any more time than that, Ander's phone vibrating with an incoming text; Nadia's new warning (coughs were apparently too obvious). 

Before Ander leaves he says, "I'll figure something out."


	2. Chapter 2

Ander is having brunch with his parents in their dining room like he does every Saturday when he receives a text from Nadia. Like most of their meals in the past month, the silence is awkward and stilted, the scraping of cutlery against ceramic the only sound in the kitchen, making Ander feel no regret about looking at his phone instead of trying to make conversation.

Nadia's message says that he shouldn’t come by the shop for a few days, but gives no explanation as to why. Panic rises in Ander's chest, his overactive mind immediately thinking the worst. Worry coils in his stomach like a snake, fingers flying across the small keyboard as he types his reply.

_**Ander (10:43 AM):**  What happened? Is he ok???_

Nadia's response is instantaneous, like she had expected him to immediately ask about Omar.

_**Nadia (10:43 AM):** _ _Omar is fine. But baba is down with the flu so he likely won’t be leaving the house for a while._

Ander sighs. No ten minutes of freedom today, then. He is relieved that it isn't something more serious, like Omar's father finding out about them or setting Omar up with some girl, but he is still disappointed that he won't be seeing Omar today. He feels his parents' inquisitive eyes on him but doesn't look up from his phone, typing a quick reply to Nadia.

_**Ander (10:45 AM):**  Can we meet up?_

Ander didn't pay much attention to Nadia the past year. He hadn't failed to notice Guzmán's growing interest in her, but had too much on his mind to make a real effort to get to know her. But Ander is starting to see her as a good friend now, appreciating the lengths she is going in order to help him and Omar when she could just as easily have chosen to turn her back on them. Ander can see why Guzmán is enamored with her; there is a quiet strength about her that he also sees in Omar, and something else that he can't quite put his finger on. He'd call it the Shanaa charm if their bigoted father didn't share the same name.

His phone pings with Nadia's response.

**_Nadia (10:46 AM):_  ** _Why?_

_**Ander (10:47 AM):**  I just want to talk._

_**Nadia (10:50 AM):** Meet me at El Aroma in 30._

Ander sends her a thumbs up emoji and pockets his phone. His parents are still staring at him when he looks up, like they have something to say but can't find the words. Ander raises his brows in silent question and turns back to his food.

"I'm going out," he says ten minutes later, pushing his chair back and getting up, dropping his used napkin on his empty plate.

He sees his father exchange a quick look with his mother, catches the small headshake she gives her husband and just knows something is coming. Ander braces himself.

Antonio places his palms flat against the table and rises to his full height, voice dripping with judgement when he speaks.

"Is this what you will be doing all summer, then? Do nothing for most of the day, then run off to meet your friends?“

Ander thought they were over this. It had been a month since he admitted to his father how little he cared for tennis and had gotten no objection from him since. He thought the matter was settled. Ander gulps, fearing his father will try to force him back into the sport, but squares his shoulders and widens his stance like a soldier preparing for battle, preparing to fight for his future.

“Dad, I—“

"When you said you were giving up tennis, I thought you would replace it with something worthwhile, not laze around with your friends all summer. Your friends won't give you a career," Antonio continues, voice rising.

Ander balls his hands into fists, jaw clenching. His father doesn't understand. Not having to travel for matches does allow him to see Omar this summer, what little time they’re afforded, but he didn’t quit just so that he would have more free time; he quit because he hated it. Tennis wasn’t him, it would never be him, and pretending to enjoy it for his parents’ sake would just make him miserable. He doesn’t want to pretend, doesn’t want his relationship with his parents to be like Omar’s, riddled with lies and misplaced obligations.

Antonio isn’t a strict man, but his voice is filled with authority as he barrels on, “You don’t want to play matches? Fine, but at least come back to training. When you change your mind and want to compete again, at least you’ll still be fit. Don’t throw your talents away!”

“Dad, we’ve been over this. I don’t want to play anymore!” Ander shouts, slamming his fist on the table. His knife, balancing closely to the edge, slides off with the force of it, falling to the floor with a loud clatter.

“I _hate_ tennis! Hate it! Do you want me to be unhappy? Do you want me to wake up every morning with a lump in my throat? To feel trapped?” his voice quivers, but he doesn’t calm, desperate to get this off his chest, to make his father understand that he doesn’t want to live the life that is being laid out for him. “Because that’s how I feel, dad!“

Azucena rushes to her son’s side and takes him in her arms, shushing him. “It’s ok, sweetheart. It’s ok, you don’t have to.” As she speaks, she aims a glare at her husband who has been stunned to silence by Ander’s outburst.

Ander burrows into his mother’s chest, rests his face in the crook of her neck and breathes in her familiar scent. “I don’t want to play tennis, mom,” he whispers, breaths evening out as he slowly calms down.

Azucena rubs his back and presses kisses to his head.

“You don’t have to,” she repeats. “Right, Antonio?”

Ander lifts his head to look at his father, but Antonio doesn’t meet his eyes. He looks disappointed, like Ander has ripped his heart out and stomped on it. Seeing his father look so let down pains Ander, chest squeezing tightly, but he knows this is the right thing to do; it’s better to quit now before he makes it to pro and has to worry about letting more than just his parents down. The pressure would kill him.

Antonio sighs, a heavy, defeated sound and finally looks up.

“Fine. Do as you like.”

Ander feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The rich scent of roasted coffee beans and caramel permeates the air when Ander walks into El Aroma. He inhales, catching hints of cinnamon and vanilla and old leather from the seats. It’s the middle of the day, but the exposed bulbs hanging from the ceiling bathe the area in soft light that bounces off the brick walls and dark, wooden surfaces, giving the impression of early evening. The atmosphere is cozy, inviting. He gets why Nadia chose this place.

He finds her in the corner farthest from the windows, nose buried in a book. Her hijab is pastel blue today, Ander notes, almost the exact same shade as the cover of the book that has captured her attention so completely. Had it been Lu or Carla, he would have thought the color choice intentional, but Nadia doesn’t strike him as the type of girl to concern herself with color coordination. Not to the point where her reading material has to match her head scarf, in any case.

“Been waiting long?” Ander asks by way of greeting, gesturing to the book. He knows he’s a bit late, delayed by the argument he had with his parents.

Nadia closes her book and looks up. “No. Only for a few minutes.”

“I missed the bus and had to wait for the next one,” Ander explains, taking a seat across from her at the small, circular table. He could tell her about the fight he had with his parents, but he doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want to poke the bruise that just started healing.

Nadia shrugs, putting her book away and giving him a smile. “It’s fine. Like I said, I haven’t been waiting long.”

Their conversation tapers off then, morphs into silence that walks the thin line between comfortable and awkward until Ander finally breaks it.

“I’m going to order. Want anything? It’s my treat.”

He returns to their table with two lattes, a slice of apricot cheesecake for Nadia, and a blueberry muffin for himself. The beverages keep them busy for a minute, Ander sipping his latte and listening to the murmur of conversation coming from the other patrons, the sound of forks scraping against plates, the hiss of the coffee machine as it grounds the beans.

“You wanted to talk to me?” Nadia says after a moment, blowing on her drink and looking at him expectantly.

Ander wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before he responds.

“Yes. I mean... I just needed to talk to someone. Everyone’s been acting so weird, you know? I just — I want to have a normal conversation with someone.”

Nadia seems to understand, because she nods and takes a small breath.

“I know what you mean.”

“But I do want to talk about Omar too,” Ander admits, picking at his muffin and watching the crumbs fall like snowflakes. He looks up, meeting Nadia’s eyes. “You said he’s fine, but how is he really?

Nadia doesn't respond right away. She breaks off a piece of cheesecake, chews it slowly with a thoughtful look on her face. Then she shrugs.

“As well as he can be, I suppose. Baba hasn’t found him a bride yet, so that’s good, but it’s only a matter of time. And he's been complaining about being bored since he can’t go out."

Ander hears the pain in her voice, and feels it deeply in his own heart. It mixes with anger, twists like a tornado in his gut, the grip around his cup tightening as Nadia speaks.

"That is... that’s so fucking unfair," he says, wishing that he could do something to help. "Come on Nadia, is there really nothing we can do? Maybe you could talk to your father, convince him to lessen Omar's punishment?"

Nadia huffs a breath; the corners of her lips curl, but not into an expression of amusement. She looks as frustrated as Ander feels.

“And what would I tell him, Ander? That Omar wants to see his friends from Las Encinas? Baba thinks the school is a bad influence on us. He doesn’t like the students that go there. _I_ was almost not allowed to go back.”

Ander sighs, runs a hand through his hair. Ten minutes are not enough for him. There has to be a way to get more time with Omar.

For the next hour, they talk about their friends, about their plans for the summer, about the next school year — but not about Marina. They laugh and joke around, Ander seeing a side of Nadia he hadn't known existed; he learns that she has a brutally honest sense of humor that he finds wholly entertaining. It takes his mind off his fight with his parents, and off the stress of the past month. Nadia even manages to take his mind off Omar until it's time to leave.

"Hey, do you think you could lend us your phone tonight? I'd really like to talk to Omar," Ander says, giving her a hopeful smile. Before meeting Omar and falling for him like a house of cards, he might have felt embarrassed and nervous about making such a request to someone's sister, but it isn't much different from asking Nadia to hand-deliver a letter. Knowing they have an ally in Nadia makes their situation feel slightly less hopeless.

Nadia throws her bag over one shoulder and looks up at him, a teasing glint appearing in her eyes. But when she speaks, it isn't to tease him, and he is immediately filled with gratitude.

"That would make him very happy. He'll give you a call when baba goes to bed," she answers, and Ander can't help but pull her into a hug. She tenses up, but only for a brief moment before relaxing into it.

"You're the best, Nadia!"

She pats his back, a hint of a laugh in her voice when she says, "Yeah yeah, now let me go before you make _me_ miss the bus."

***

Ander's phone rings right when he's coming out of the shower, and he nearly slips and brains himself on the dresser in his haste to get to it, leaving a trail of water from the bathroom all the way to his bed. He's dripping all over the covers, but he doesn't care; he props himself up against the headboard and picks up the phone, naked skin buzzing with anticipation.

"Hi Ander."

"Hi," he responds a little breathlessly, and suddenly feels shy. They don't really call each other, preferring to communicate through texts. But he had really wanted to hear Omar's voice; it's the next best thing to seeing him in person.

Ander can hear him breathing on the other end and closes his eyes, imaging him here with him stretched out on the bed.

"How are you?" he asks when the silence has dragged on a bit too long. He hears the sound of sheets shifting before Omar replies.

“Fine.”

Ander is not convinced.

"Your dad isn't being too hard on you, is he? I heard from Nadia that he's sick," he says, picking at a loose thread on the bed cover.

"No, he has actually left me alone. The flu must be tiring him out." There's a hint of a chuckle in Omar's voice, and it eases some of Ander's worry. He smiles, even though Omar can't see it.

"That's good then."

"Yeah. I'm still not allowed to go out though — he'd notice," Omar says, a tired sigh following his words.

"This is so fucked up, Omar. You're practically a prisoner in your own home!" Ander grits out, unable to reign in his frustration. He takes a shuddering breath and unclenches his fist, running his fingers through his wet hair and pulling slightly at the ends. The next time he speaks, his voice is softer.

"Sorry. I just... I miss you."

They saw each other only yesterday, but Ander feels no shame admitting it. He wants to be completely honest with Omar, tell him exactly how he feels so that Omar will be comfortable being honest with him. Omar may feel like he has to hide who he is around his family, but Ander never wants him to feel that way with him.

Omar laughs, but there's a shyness in his voice when he speaks.

"You saw me yesterday, you sap."

Ander chuckles. "Well, I want to see you every day. Sue me."

"Sue you? This isn't America," Omar replies, pulling a laugh from him and joining in with light chuckles.

There's a lull in conversation after that, but it's free from the awkwardness Ander felt in the beginning of their phone call. It's a comfortable silence, even breaths and the whirring of the ceiling fan the only sounds in the room.

"I miss you too," Omar says after a beat, words barely louder than a whisper, like he's telling him a deep secret.

The confession makes Ander feel warm and fuzzy inside, expressions of love and terms of endearment still a novelty in their relationship. He smiles and wonders if Omar is blushing, but doesn't say anything.

It's a quarter past midnight when they finally hang up, closing their conversation with a gentle _I love you_. Ander's skin is long since dry, so he pulls on a pair of boxers and starts preparing for bed.

As he lays under the covers waiting for sleep to claim him, he is reminded of what Nadia said in the coffee shop about her father disliking students from Las Encinas.

If Mr Shanaa doesn't approve of his son's friends from Las Encinas, then they're just going to have to find Omar a couple of friends that his father will approve of and use them as a cover. It's a bit far-fetched, but with luck it might just work.

Ander falls asleep with a smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> I binge watched Netflix's Elite and fell in love with these two.
> 
> There is like no fic for this great pairing (or this show in general) yet so please watch the show and help me fill their tag with love!


End file.
